


Seeing Red

by thedropoutandthejunkie (elenajames)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Filthy, Hate Sex, M/M, Public Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 21:40:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6130960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/thedropoutandthejunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, anger and adrenaline just boil over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeing Red

Sam leans over and slams the eject button, setting the tape deck whirring angrily and trailing shiny tape when it finally spits out the Metallica cassette. 

Dean doesn’t say a word as he slams on the breaks, tires skidding as he hits the gravel on the shoulder but he manages to slide the car into park. They’re on an approach, headlights shining on a barbed wire fence and the faded “NO TRESPASSING” sign hung in the middle.

He’s out of the car before Sam can even curse at him for nearly getting them killed, and he scrabbles at the handle to follow his brother out. It’s dark along this empty stretch of highway, and with the lights off Sam almost doesn’t see Dean coming. A solid punch cracks against his jaw, sending him stumbling back against the Impala, and Sam sees red. 

They brawl across gravel, through weeds and dirt until they’re rolling over and over each other in the ditch, each trying to pin the other. Dean holds Sam down long enough to bite at his lips, and Sam returns the favor by sinking his teeth into Dean’s collar bone. 

Rough hands rip at jeans and claw at hips, stitches popping as fabric gets clenched in tight fists. Sam wraps his hand up in Dean’s flannel, bunching it tight until Dean has to strain against the fabric to move as he’s shoved face-first into the dirt. 

“Fuck you, Sam,” he grits out, kicking backwards at his brother, who only keeps on dragging down Dean’s boxers. 

“Gonna. Maybe then you’ll stop being such a fucking bitch.” Sam spits on his hole and lines up, finally letting go of Dean’s shirt to grab his hips.

Dean manages to reach back and sink his nails into Sam’s thigh, gouging them deep as Sam thrusts into him. Spit isn’t nearly enough lube, and the first thrust makes him yell out into the dark. Dean is still pissed and shoves back hard, nearly unbalancing Sam, who pulls out and shoves in sharply in retaliation. 

Raking his nails down Sam’s thigh just to hear his little brother curse, Dean drops both hands to the dirt, fisting them tight and rocking back. There’s litter around them, filthy napkins crinkling under Dean’s knee and empty beer bottles just feet away. It’s fucked up and good and Dean wants to shove his brother off so he can fuck him stupid, but Sam’s got him right where he wants him. 

The moment Dean shifts, Sam shoves him down again with one hand between his shoulders, fucking into Dean hard and quick so all Dean can do is curse and moan. 

“You fucking - fuck, goddamnit Sam -” 

“Wanna fucking wreck you, Dean. Mess you up the way you’ve been asking for,” Sam growls against his neck, and Dean clenches tight just for the pleasure of hearing Sammy yelp. “Fucking dick.” 

Dean drags a hand back, wincing as a stray piece of glass slices his knuckles, but he gets it around his cock anyway. The angle grinds his shoulder into the ground, but being able to stroke himself is more than worth it. Sam’s jeans scrape against his ass, cars roar by intermittently, and thick, little brother cock hammers his prostate. 

Gritting his teeth to keep himself from moaning Sam’s name, Dean splatters the ground with come. He can’t help but grin to himself when his orgasm triggers Sam’s, come sliding around Sam’s cock and running down Dean’s taint when Sam pulls out. 

There’s the grating sound of Sam’s zipper and the clink of his belt buckle. Their pants fill the quiet, and Dean’s not sure what’s going to happen until Sam’s pulling him to his feet. Together, they straighten Dean’s clothes, then Sam tugs him into a hard kiss. It melts a little, but not much. 

“You’re bleeding,” Sam notes as they crawl back in the car, gesturing at Dean’s cut hand. He actually sounds concerned.

“Yeah, and your face is already turning purple. We’ll both live.” 

Sam just snorts and picks up the Metallica cassette, winding the exposed tape back in with his pinkie and sticking it back in the player. 


End file.
